


See what we've become

by Dekka



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/Dekka
Summary: Love doesn't fix an anxiety disorder; Auston's old enough to understand that.Aka: A day in the life where Auston is there for Mitch





	See what we've become

**Author's Note:**

> !!!Trigger warning for panic attacks!!!
> 
>  
> 
> This is 100% make up and completely fake.

It’s a million things all at once. It’s the tape peeling off the wall and the broken plate in the kitchen sink; unnecessary hinderances that build and build and never stop building until the whole house is crumbling down, shaking around him. 

“ _Mitch, breathe_.” 

And there’s nothing he can do. 

He could take a thousand breaths, he could exercise, he could eat better, but the anxiety- the fear of fear itself- will still be with him everyday. 

It’s never-ending. 

There’s a cycle Mitch knows, a routine he wishes he could fall into, and there’s _this_. This absolute disregard for logic and serenity when he needs it most. 

And isn’t that a fickle word? Need. 

Like he needs to breathe. Needs to live. 

Like he needs to remember to do something that even infants can do. As if he’s not made infantile enough by the press, by the fans, by his coaches and teammates. 

“Kid,” they call him, and question whether he belongs; if he’s even good enough to play a game he’s known his whole life. 

“ _It’s just one loss._ ” 

It isn’t just one loss. 

It’s a lifetime of questions, of the trainers upping his calorie intake and Babcock’s steely face when he loses a battle against the boards. It’s a lifetime of knowing your body isn’t good enough; a lifetime of hating his vessel. 

Every time, when the air finally decides to come, Mitch promises himself he’ll quit, but he never does. The despair keeps him insatiable, finding a new need to prove himself worthy when he finally feels the pull of something that’s not his sickness. 

His hand, pulled tight and held against Auston’s chest to feel and mimic his breathing, looks as small as he feels, restrained and surrounded by _bigger_ and better. 

Somedays he hates the man he loves, his anxiety making his thoughts wicked. It’s always a ‘him or me’ mentality that haunts him, when it comes to the team. Who would they choose, if they had to pick? Which one of them would stay? Who would get traded? On those days, jealousy burns like a physical pain. 

Of all the things to come from his disorder, his disgust with those with his best interests at heart is the worst. After years of losing friends and lovers alike, he refuses to let Auston be another casualty. 

He takes back his arm like he’s been burned. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

And Auston doesnt. 

 

***

 

After, Auston brings him water in bed and plays the same episode of friends on repeat for two hours. He feeds Mitch like he feeds their cactus on the windowsill, paying him attention at his low points, when his leaves start to droop and his color fades. 

“How’s your head?” He asks, like it’s just a headache. They’ve become so good at downplaying Mitch’s panic attacks, like this is just another Tuesday night, capped off with a Xanax and a call to his therapist and their trainers. 

“Fine,” Mitch lies. 

When Auston gets into bed, he lets Mitch spoon up behind him, seemingly not so small as when he’s holding them together. 

“Is this okay?” Auston asks, careful and caring all at once. He’s a Godsend; light in the darkest days Mitch has ever known. 

He can feel tears silently slipping down his face, and even with no reason to hide them, he buries them away in Auston’s neck. “Yes,” he answers honestly. It’s so much better than okay. 

If Auston can hear his choked-off sob, he faithfully doesnt mention it, instead pulling Mitch’s arm tighter around his own middle. 

“You’re okay, I’m here,” he soothes. His hand squeezes tight around Mitch’s. 

It’s enough for him to breathe easy for the first time that day. 

“I love you,” he says, so that Auston knows, so that he doesn’t ever think the evil, unmentionable things Mitch thought in the midst of his panic. 

“I love you too.” 

Auston says it like it’s easy to love him, when Mitch knows it’s anything but. 

 

***

 

The day after is always the worst. 

He’s hot with embarrassment, avoiding Auston any way he can in their three bedroom apartment. 

“I brought you green tea.” 

The avoidance comes to an end in their office, Auston blocking the doorway in a purposeful manner. 

“Thank you,” Mitch says, and doesnt move to take the drink Auston sets down at his desk. “And thank you for last night,” he adds on awkwardly. 

Like he always does when Mitch apologizes for panicking, Auston sighs. 

“We can go for a run, eat, or watch netflix,” he offers, “I’m not going to let you face this alone. The rest is your choice” 

It’s the same speech every time. But it’s the babying that gets Mitch. “Leave me alone, Aus.”

Predictably, he doesnt budge and doesnt let Mitch pass him as he tries to leave the room. 

So maybe it’s really the caring, instead of the babying, that gets him. The idea that he can push and push and that Auston will never stop caring is terrifying, even though those thoughts are always followed quickly by the fear that one day Auston will. 

It’s the potential for change that makes the panic come just as much as the static, unchanging weight of his body and skill in his profession. 

For now, though, change is nonexistent. Auston stands like a wall with the same look, same love and understanding as he does each and every day after Mitch has a panic attack. 

He’s a good guy, doing everything he can. 

“A run,” Mitch decides, and instantly the gate is dropped, Auston’s arm falling as he lets Mitch past him to change. 

 

***

 

When he feels better, he tells Auston. 

Shame isn’t so hard admit to when they’re both in a better place mentally. Mitch knows his disorder impacts Auston, and the guilt he feels is always replaced by a warmth when his boyfriend’s smile is a mirror of his own. 

They’re happy, together. 

And sometimes sad together, too. 

It’s a part of their lives, their routine. They fall from health between injuries and bad mental health days, but snap back together all the same. 

It’s a testament to their love. Bounds show no sign of stoping as each night they’re wrapped around each other whether perfectly fine or in pain, physical or mental. Their troubles bring their souls closer together with each admittance of personal failure and triumph. 

They’re entwined forever, seared on one another’s chest like a stamp. 

“I love you,” Mitch says randomly, one night as they’re walking home from dinner in the middle of a blizzard. They’re only two blocks away from their apartment, three max, and all they can see is the outline of city lights in-between blanketing flurries of slowflakes. Beyond that, the streets are quiet, people burrowed in for the storm. 

Auston’s smile, the one he only breaks out when his eyes light up with love, is enough to warm Mitch’s chest even as the next sweeping gust of wind plows over them. 

They’re pushed and pulled by frigid January air and snow, but Auston doesn't stop smiling, not at least until he pulls them into an alcove on the street side. He holds Mitch close, arms tight around his waist as they huddle together, contently sharing their warmth. 

“I love you too.” It’s just a whisper, just a look and kiss shared between two people in the moonlight, but it’s everything that gives Mitch a reason to look towards the future with a breathless sort of wonderment at the life he knows he’ll have.

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably learn how to sleep but this fic kept writing itself in my head so whoops. 
> 
>  
> 
> Comments feed the writer :)


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